“I thank you; I have been paid,” replied Ben, pushing the coin back from him.
“Confound it! Take this, then; won’t you?”
As he spoke he banged down a large, red apple on the counter, and looked almost savagely at Ben, as if daring him to refuse it.
The boy did not decline, but picking it up, said:
“Thank you; I am very fond of apples. I will take this home and share it with my mother.”
“The next time I come to town I’ll bring you a peck,” and with this hearty response the farmer stumped out of the door.
I had been much amused over this scene, especially when Ben showed me the astonishing message the farmer had prepared to send his daughter.
Ben laughed, too, after the old gentleman was beyond hearing.
“It’s a pleasure to do a slight favor like that. I think I feel better over it than Mr. Jones does himself.”
“I think not,” said I; “for it so happens that instead of that gentleman being Farmer Jones, he is Mr. Musgrave, the district superintendent, who took a fancy to find out whether his operators are as kind and obliging as they should be, I am quite sure you lost nothing that time by your courtesy and accommodating spirit.”